Clockwork Twist : Trick (16 page)

Idris shrugged. “The word around the world is that you three disappeared from Bombay the moment a pair of magpies showed up.  I thought you might be up to something entertaining, so I went looking for you.  My life has been dull as dirt since Quay got locked away.  None of the other pirates were any fun either.  No imagination...”

“How did you find us?” Twist asked.

“He's magical,” Jonas said. “Don't ask.”

“I asked your sister,” Idris said to Jonas. “She says hi.  And that you're a bloody no good, home-wrecking runaway.”

“Yeah, well...” Jonas muttered.

“When she used her Sight and told me you were leaving Constantinople on a train, it was easy to guess which train it was.”

“You left Bombay last night?” Twist asked. “How did you get all the way here so fast?”

“Smoke can travel pretty fast in high atmosphere,” Idris said as if it were a totally simple and natural sort of answer.

“What about a small elephant?” Myra asked, still holding her spoon. “Not a big one, of course, she said to Twist's alarmed expression. “Just about like this,” she said, holding her other hand about six inches off the table.

“I see why you like her,” Idris said to Twist. “Say it as a wish.”

“Now, darling...” Twist tried, but this time Myra waved his words away.

“I wish this spoon was a tiny elephant,” she said quickly.

Without a moment's hesitation, the spoon burst into silver smoke that billowed and shimmered, collecting into a small ball on the surface of the table.  An instant later it coalesced into the shape of an elephant that shivered into solid form and looked around itself, raising its little trunk to let out a tiny shout of greeting to the world.

Myra clapped her hands and shrieked with joy while Twist and Jonas could only stare at the odd little apparition.  Idris laughed lightly at Myra's reaction and watched the elephant wander closer to the sugar bowl on its flat little feet.  The waiter standing beside the table blinked a few times, and stared at the elephant with some concern.  He then placed Idris's breakfast down in front of him and left the table quickly.

“So, what brings you lovely people to Paris?” Idris asked as he spread tomato jelly on his flat-bread.  The elephant took hold of a sugar cube with its trunk and dragged it out onto the table.

“We're um...”  Twist shook his head and looked away from the little elephant. “We're going to try to convince a scientist there that Myra is not dangerous, so that the Rooks will leave her alone.”  Myra giggled, watching the elephant lick at the sugar cube with its tiny tongue.

“Interesting,” Idris said thoughtfully. “Do you have a backup plan?”

“You couldn't be a pal and make them all stop caring about her now, could you?” Jonas asked hopefully.

“Sorry,” he responded, shaking his head. “I can't affect people's thoughts or feelings.  I can hide her from view, or turn her into something else, but I can't make anyone lose interest in something, let alone a group of people spread all over the world.”

“But you could help us escape if our plan doesn't work,” Twist tried.

“Maybe,” Idris said, carefully digging out a bit of his omelet with his fork.

The elephant made another tiny burst of sound.  Myra giggled and scratched behind its ear with a finger.  The elephant wriggled into her touch happily.

“So what are you saying?” Jonas asked. “You came all the way here to see us, but you might just let us get captured by mags if we fail?”

“They're only after her, right?” Idris asked, pointing his fork at Myra. “They'd only bother with you if you get in the way.”

“That's not the point,” Jonas said sharply.

“Look, I don't take sides,” Idris said. “You know that.  I'm just here in your dull little world until my sentence is complete.  If you are going to be entertaining, then I'm happy to be around.  But if you're going to get yourselves into trouble and end up sitting around in a cell for a while, then I'll find something else to do.”

Jonas grumbled something under his breath.  Myra giggled again as she managed to get the elephant to pick up her butter knife with its trunk.  The elephant seemed delighted to carry it to the other side of her place mat, its ears flapping happily and its tiny tail swinging behind it.  Twist was struck by the unchanging nature of her child-like sentiments and watched her thoughtfully.  His hopes of a pleasant future hung solely on the obviousness of her innocence.  He couldn't imagine anyone seeing any kind of threat in her.

Jonas was waiting at the door, a small bag on his shoulder, before the train even came within sight of Vienna.  Twist stared at him in utter confusion as his friend seemed to practically vibrate with pent up joy and excitement, peering eagerly down the track as the train began to slow from nearly two hundred miles an hour, approaching the stop at the still distant station. 

Knowing that the train would only stop in Vienna for one hour, Twist looked at his watch for reference.  It read nearly seven o'clock, although the sun had risen quite a while ago.  He made a mental note to be back on the train before it read eight o'clock.

“Is he all right?” Myra asked softly, leaning closer to Twist.

“I don't know.  I've never seen him like this.”

“What?” Jonas asked, as if waking suddenly from a trance.

“You're … bouncing,” Twist informed him.

Jonas stopped hopping on the balls of his feet. “I haven't been to Vienna in almost a year,” he said a little too quickly, his face obviously struggling to contain his smile. “They must have gotten so many new records by now.  I didn't even realize that the train would stop here until this morning.  Can you believe it?”

“No, no I can't...” Twist offered sportively.

Jonas looked again toward the station, now just beginning to appear in the distance as the train continued to slow down.  Myra gave Twist a worried look.  Twist replied with a shrug.  The very moment the doors opened—the stewards calling out to remind those at the doors that the train would only be stopping for one hour before continuing on—Jonas flew out onto the platform and hurried into the city.  Twist and Myra followed out of pure curiosity.

Jonas moved through the cobblestone streets as if he knew his route by heart.  Vienna seemed strikingly familiar to Twist in its western appearance after all of his time in the East.  Twist noticed as he followed Jonas that although his goggles were firmly on over his eyes, there was no hesitation in his steps.  They came quickly to the door of a small shop halfway down a winding alley.  Jonas pulled off his goggles and stopped just inside the door, taking a deep, savoring breath.

Twist and Myra entered after him, looking around at shelf after shelf of small square boxes with labels of varying colors.  The shelves covered the long walls from the old wooden floor to the ceiling high above.  What little space was left in the middle of the long, narrow shop was filled with tables, stacked high with towers of more boxes.  Though the source was not visible, Twist clearly heard the sound of a string quartette wafting through the air.  A tall man in a gray suit, with the beginnings of gray in his brown hair, stood up from behind a counter at the back and smiled broadly at Jonas.

“Herr Davis!” he said with joy, hurrying around his counter to meet Jonas with a hearty handshake.  The next few things that were said between them made no sense at all to Twist, though it reminded him of the language Niko had spoken.  He guessed it must really be German this time.  He couldn't remember if Austria had its own language or not.  Jonas eventually turned to Twist and Myra with an introducing gesture.

“These are my friends, Twist and Myra,” he said in English.

“A pleasure to meet you,” the man said with a gentle accent, offering Twist a handshake. “Are you music lovers as well?”

“I like music,” Myra offered, taking the handshake in Twist's stead.  The man stared at her in shock, having not apparently noticed that she was made of metal until she spoke to him.  He stared at the hand in his, releasing it carefully.

“This is one of the few shops in the world that sell the wax records I listen to,” Jonas said, already looking around at the stock in rapture.

“Yes...” the man said, still staring at Myra for a moment before he shook his head as if to clear it and looked back to Jonas. “Have you recorded any new, interesting items?”

“Oh yes,” Jonas said smoothly, patting the small bag on his shoulder.

In a matter of moments Jonas and the shop owner were deep in musical discussion, moving around the shop from composer to composer.  Twist glanced at his watch again and saw that it was still only seven fifteen by his own personal time zone.  Myra swayed gently on her feet in time to the music, staring around with all the interest of an infant in morning Mass.

“Shall we go see some of the city, and leave him to it?” Twist asked her.

“Oh!” Myra said, brightening instantly. “Can we?”

Twist smiled and turned to call to Jonas in the depths of the Beethoven section.  Jonas responded vaguely, apparently not offended in the least.  Twist then turned to Myra and offered her his arm.  She took it with a smile as they both left the little shop and headed out into Vienna.

Their aimless steps took them onto a wide boulevard, spotted with well-manicured trees along a sidewalk that was occasionally overhung with awnings.  Hansom cabs trotted by on the street.  Birds twittered in the trees and on the high rooftops of the tall, clustered buildings.  The air had a chill to it that felt more comforting to Twist than he ever could have expected.  As they walked by people in smart, Western-style suits, Twist's walking stick made a pleasant click on the cobblestones.  Under the bright blue sky that was scented with distant snow, Twist felt himself relax in a very deep part of his heart.

A month ago, Austria would have seemed incredibly foreign and impossibly far away.  But now, after all of the places that he'd seen, marveled at, and not understood, Twist felt closer to home than he had in a long time.  Myra, holding lightly to his arm and staring around her with a smile, sent his Sight nothing but pleasant feelings of interest and curiosity.

“Twist,” Myra toned thoughtfully, “this is the West, isn't it?”

“Yes, we're in Europe now,” Twist said, proud that he didn't have to consult his copper globe to be sure.

“Is this city like England?” she asked, looking up at the buildings.

“It's more like London than Bombay was,” Twist offered. “But it's still different.”

A group of ladies in tailored dresses walked past them speaking happily together in the language that Twist heard everywhere now.  Myra watched them with interest.

“Do women in England dress like that?” she asked him in a hushed tone.

Twist glanced back to check, then nodded. “Not unlike that.”

“Oh,” Myra muttered, glancing down at her flowing purple and gold sari. “Would you rather I dressed more like that?”

Twist looked to her in confusion and found an eagerness in her eyes that startled him.  He couldn't feel anything but curiosity in her touch, but her face told him otherwise.  “No, it doesn't matter,” he said, struggling for understanding.

Myra looked away with a silent, subtle sigh.  Although his Sight seemed intent on showing him nothing but a vague, pleasant air in her emotions, he couldn't shake the certainty that he hadn't said quite the right thing.

“I think you look lovely,” he tried hopefully.  Her gaze met his quickly, and she smiled.

“Really?”

“Of course,” he said, smiling out of relief. “Don't I always tell you so?”

“Well, yes, but...”  Myra shook her head and smiled to him warmly. “You're always so sweet to me.  All you ever tell me are nice things.”

“What else could I say to someone as charming as you are?”

Myra giggled behind a copper hand and Twist caught a wave of delight off of her touch.  Following a bend in the road, Twist heard music wafting to them from farther along.  As they came closer they found a small band of violinist standing together on a street corner before an enormous Gothic cathedral, all playing in perfect harmony.  People stopped as they walked by, listening for a moment before continuing on their way.  As Myra and Twist stood nearby, Myra began to sway lightly on her feet in time with the music.  Twist released her grasp and gestured invitingly to the band.

Myra needed no other incentive.  She swept into a swirling, elegant little dance in the empty spaced beside the band.  The players caught sight of her and stared, though their music didn't seem to falter.  More people began to gather around them, watching Myra with expressions of wonder and delight as she moved so gently in the sunlight.  Soon the players began to smile and their song took on more of a distinct tempo.  Myra's dance changed to match, swaying and spinning with each gliding refrain and tapping her thin sandals on the cobblestones to the beat.  Twist watched with pride as the crowd around them continued to grow, and they all began to smile more and more.

“All right, maybe you've got a point,” Jonas said, suddenly appearing out of the crowd beside Twist.  Distracted by Myra, Twist hadn't sensed him coming, and jumped in surprise. “Steady, there,” Jonas said, grinning at him.

“What point have I got, then?” Twist asked, snapping into a dignified posture instantly.

“It would be a shame to hide her from the world,” Jonas said, nodding to Myra.  Her face was glowing with joy as she watched the crowd around her. “She would be miserable as a fugitive.  I doubt her life would have much meaning if she couldn't show off.”

“Shall we just say that the world would be deprived of a treasure?” Twist said, smarting somewhat from the slight against Myra.

“That too,” Jonas nodded.  He watched the dance for a moment in silence, his uncovered eyes shifting gently from blue to green. “What time is it?” he asked suddenly, looking around the city for a clock.

Twist reached for his watch. “We have twenty minutes left.”

“Did you set that to local time?” Jonas asked.

“No, but it said we left the train at seven, and its twenty till eight now.”

“Are you ever going to set that thing to a real time zone?” Jonas asked, grinning again.

“What's the point?” Twist asked with a shrug as he slipped it back into his pocket. “I'd only have to reset it again once we cross another bloody border.”

Jonas laughed and nodded. “Yeah, but still.”

A moment later, the violinists brought their song to a close and Myra slowed her motions to match, ending her dance in an elegant arc from fingertip to toe.  The crowd clapped enthusiastically while the violinists joined them.  Myra bowed and smiled to them, saying something in German.  They responded with happy notes in their voices and Myra giggled and shook her head.

“What a flirt,” Jonas muttered under his breath, eyeing the musician who had spoken last. “We'd better get a hold of her before they start going again.”

“Myra dear,” Twist called to her, stepping closer. “The train will leave soon.”

“Is this yours?” one of the violinists asked him in English, gesturing to Myra. “It's wonderful.  How does it work?”  Myra's glowing smile dropped into a chilling glare in a flash.

“Magic,” Twist said, taking Myra's hand. “Thank you for the song.”  He pulled her immediately away, cringing against the wave of anger that washed over his Sight.

“Magic?” Myra snapped acidly as they began to walk away.

“We must choose our battles, my dear,” he said softly. “I could tell him that you are a real young lady bound in clockwork, with a personality as delightful as your dancing.  I could tell him all the ways that you are most certainly not a thing, nor anyone's possession.  But we have to catch our train.”  Myra grumbled slightly but he felt her anger subside.

“That was a wonderful dance, though,” Jonas offered brightly as they hurried along.

“Yes, it was a nice song, too, I suppose,” Myra said, her dark expression lightening just a little bit.  Jonas shot Twist a meaningful look.

“Yes, and the whole crowd enjoyed watching you,” Twist said quickly.

“They did, didn't they?”  Myra asked, starting to smile now.

“And remember what that one musician said to you?” Jonas toned.

Myra giggled again, looking as if she would like to blush. “Stop it!” she said through a laugh as she batted at him. “Don't listen to him, my dear,” she said to Twist.

“I never do,” Twist said, mocking a proud air.

“Hey!” Jonas snapped.  Myra giggled again.

By the time they had reached the train, Myra's mood was as light as her steps.  As the train began to move again, speeding deeper into Europe, Twist felt an unexpected jolt of excitement at the prospect of returning to more familiar ground.  He found himself suddenly remembering books like
The Three Musketeers
and
The Hunchback of Norte Dame
, and how, as he'd read them, he had idly entertained the thought of visiting Paris someday.